I'll Make A Man Out Of You
by TobiasHawk1
Summary: Pyrrha's been training Jaune every day, but for WHAT remains to be seen. Arkos fic, dom!Pyrrha, sub!Jaune, oral. R&R, I hope you enjoy, and remember, Zone-tan watches you fap. *cover by Tumblr user the-stray-liger*
1. Lessons

Their relationship had started with training. Pyrrha was kind, patient, and skilled. Her rough, calloused hands pushed against his hips to tuck them beneath his spine as he finished the final blow with Crocea Mors; a powerful jab she'd come to appreciate.

Sweat ran down from his forehead in beads, running to his cheeks and jaws, then dripping off his bare chin to the gravel below. Some pooled in the pits of his shoulder muscles, while even more dripped down his chest and stomach, following the grooves that were just beginning to etch themselves beneath his skin. He was panting, tired from a previous late training session the night before, classes, the gym, homework, and their current training.

She always insisted that he train with his shirt off. "I need to see where your muscles are flexing. It's not just about the movement, but about the power." That's what she'd been taught by her instructors, but the words seemed hollow to her when she repeated them. Almost as if she didn't actually believe them. No, she had an ulterior motive she wouldn't even admit to herself in her most vulnerable of dreams.

"Chin up, Jaune. Concentrate. Your sword is an extension of your arm. You're not just swinging it… you're carving the air with your intent! Make it strong, powerful and graceful."

Jaune smiled, glad to perform the movements yet again. He was absolutely determined to get it right! She respected him for his persistence. Gone was the Jaune that tried to train in solitude out of preconceived notions of machismo. This man was hers to control, a force of bountiful, directionless Aura that screamed to be molded by experienced hands. She relished the challenge. And through it, their friendship grew ever stronger. Pyrrha couldn't believe anyone in the world would see her as more than just a champion- more than just a _fighter_. Jaune so easily called her his friend, it made butterflies take flight and fill her stomach with the flutter of hundreds of tiny wings.

Four more times he performed the carefully choreographed movements until she was satisfied with the performance.

"_The intent is there. It's strong, powerful, and deadly- but would it falter?_"

"That's perfect, Jaune! Now you can do it against an opponent." The redhead slipped off her hoodie, leaving it a pile of cloth on the floor. She was wearing only her inner layer of battle-wear. Neglected were the riveted metal or leather piece that shaped her so well- Jaune could never tell what material it was made out of and never had gathered the gall to ask. The vambrace, greaves, cuisses and heels were gone as well, exchanged for bare skin and comfortable sneakers. Her diadem still ornamented her head as always, framing her face as beautifully as a rainbow did the sky.

She used her semblance to summon Miló from its resting position on the ground near Akoúō, and expertly snatched it from its path as it sailed through the air with the finesse of a seamstress stitching a dress. With a flick of her wrist, it became the xiphos she preferred in close-quarter combat. She raised it to Jaune, showing him the respect a teacher would a student. "You're going to do the same thing. Faster. Harder. With more control. Understand, Jaune?"

The poor blond already looked uncomfortable, eyes darting from Pyrrha's, to her weapon, to his own sword and back again.

"Um, yeah. O- okay. Just block, okay?"

Pyrrha sighed internally.

"_He'll have to learn eventually_." She'd held her patience for this kind of passivity long enough. A new lesson must be taught and, more importantly, _learned_.

The exercise was a routine with ten strikes, two parries and a forearm bash interspersed within the flow of the sword. It'd taken him three days to memorize the moves without forgetting a step, and nearly a week to learn to execute them properly.

He tightened his hand around the grip of the sword, flexing a variety of muscles in his arm, shoulder and neck that attracted her eyes for just a moment. She tore her gaze away and instead locked onto blue irises with a piercing stare, ready to teach what subtlety had not.

Jaune started his first strike, a slash meant to test his adversary without exposing himself more than what was absolutely necessary. He hesitated.

With a slight shift to the left, she easily dodged the blade. He followed through, reflexes still not fast enough to stop his momentum. Pyrrha stripped him of his weapon with a flick of her wrist, and with a leg maliciously placed in the path of his leading foot, she tripped him. As he fell forward, she grabbed him by his waistband, pulling his weight back over his feet. She could see the look of gratitude on his face and felt terrible for him as she slammed him on his back on the gravel. She pointed both their weapons at his face sternly.

In school, Pyrrha was considered a 'nice' girl. She detested bullies and loved making her friends friends happy... but this rooftop was _not_ school. It was a gladiator pit. It was the fire that had shaped her into the warrior she was today, and she would spare Jaune none of the blood, sweat and tears he'd cheated his way past when he'd made it into Beacon.

"Again."


	2. Improvement

He was flirting with Weiss. _Again._ Pyrrha had grown used his obliviousness by now, but ever since their discussion about his underhanded entry into Beacon Academy, it always came with some sting.

"_Was Weiss the one whom he'd entrusted with his darkest secret?_"

"_Was Weiss the one with whom he trained every night?_"

"_Was Weiss the one who saw in him a wealth of potential worth molding?_"

She'd caught herself styling her hair in an asymmetric ponytail reminiscent to that of the Schnee heiress. With a remark of disgust, Pyrrha had tucked the brush back where she'd found it.

"_No. If he likes me, he'll come to me as I am. Not because I remind him of _her_._"

After a while, she'd begun to feel threatened by here. Not in the petty way some scorned lover would feel, but in a more relevant way.

"_With his attention centered so much on _Weiss_, how could he clear his mind while they practiced?_"

Today, however, as Wiess turned him down yet again, the Mistrali came to a realization. A momentary epiphany, if one would choose to define it as such. She scribbled the thought away in her notebook to look back on later.

* * *

"Jaune. It's been a _week_! Strike me or I'm going to hurt you!" Pyrrha sighed her warning- no, her _promise_\- with a dissatisfied air.

"Pyrrha, I'm _trying_! You're not making this easy-"

"You think this is supposed to be _easy_, Jaune? Do you think the Deathstalkers will just kill themselves? The Nevermore will just drop from the sky? Beowolves will simply attack their own packmates when they see you?"

"Pyrrha, I don't want to hurt you!" She struck, slamming the flat of her blade against his ribs with enough force to dent a car door. He flinched in pain. His Aura was great and he was getting better at using it, but he could still feel the lethality with which she'd swung her blade. He looked betrayed and confused, to say the least. Never once had she struck him out of anger. Technically, she still had not.

"Jaune. Stop treating me as if I were some helpless dame! Now _strike me!_" Jaune chewed his lip and took a deep breath, gathering his courage to strike with all the intent Pyrrha had requested of him.

_Slash. Stab. Swipe. Parry!_

She smirked at him as their weapons shook with the force of their blows. He was strong- so much strength gathered in those biceps and triceps and- _Swipe. Jab_. A powerful overhead attack that had never been a threat until now. _Second parry!_ She'd nearly slipped her cool steel through his defenses. Sparks flew as they held the stance for a second that seemed to stretch through eternity. _Swipe. Backhand swipe. Slash. Forearm bash!_

He struck her in the chest. She hadn't been expecting it. They had never actually gotten so far in a single exercise without stopping and the existence of the forearm bash had slipped her mind for the briefest of moments. Had it been an actual fight, she would've grabbed the arm and dislocated his shoulder before the blow landed, but, as it were, she'd been expecting to block the final jab.

Jaune saw the glimmer of surprise in her emerald eyes and- for the quickest of heartbeats- he hesitated with his final attack. It would be a finishing jab to the exact center of the chest that would incapacitate anyone not wearing armor. The tip of his blade angled slightly, shooting towards her shoulder.

She didn't even have time to sigh.

With a flurry of limbs, he was back on the ground, for what must've been the thousandth time that week, disarmed and defeated.

"… again."


	3. Small Victories

Jaune happily sipped from a juice box as they walked up the steps. Schnee's Green Apple, or some flavor similar.

"How do you fill up on such little juice?" Pyrrha was curious. She was a hair shorter than him, but they were both fairly tall individuals. At the age of fifteen she'd gone through six similar juice boxes within an hour before she deciding that they no longer suited someone of her stature.

"Oh, I don't. That's what the water's for." He swung the gallon of water she required of him each night into view.

"So then why the juice at all, Jaune? That's an extra… sixty calories." She read the label off the back. Sometimes the blond didn't really make sense.

"It… it tastes good. I love Schnee's." He sipped the last of the drink through the bendable straw but didn't stop, his sucking making a ridiculous slurping sound.

A pup piloting the body of a wolf. That was the best she could describe him. A pup with all the potential and drive and motivation to learn, but still young, inexperienced and playful. And naive.

She shook her head as she opened the door to the roof for the pair. He stripped himself of his school uniform. Tie, blazer, button-up, a crew-neck white t-shirt that was looking tighter on him every day. He left them in a neatly folded pile on the floor as he assumed his weapon. He'd expected her to produce her own, but she gave him pause as she stripped out of the bronze v-neck she wore for support as well as protection. With a quick tug, it was up over her head, a crumpled pile of cloth on the ground. Wearing nothing more than the bindings which supported her breasts and the A-line miniskirt that was meant to accentuate more than protect, she took her position in front of Jaune.

Pyrrha flexed her yearning muscles- they'd sat through lecture after lecture today and she was itching for some exercise. Abs that Jaune aspired to himself rippled in the cool night air as they performed the most rudimentary of stretches. He watched her, but his gaze lacked anything but harmless curiosity. It lacked in the very intent he needed with her as they sparred. Another epiphany descended upon her. "_Tonight will be the night._"

"Same thing. And we're not leaving this roof until you get it right, Jaune. I'll stay here another week if I have to." He could tell she meant every word.

"Okay, Pyrrha. I've got it this time." _Slash_\- she dropped him onto his seat with a quick shove.

"_Still unprepared._" She offered her hand and he took it, rising sheepishly to his feet.

_Slash. Stab. Swipe. Parry._ His chest shuddered with the strain. _Swipe. Jab. Overhead_\- she dropped him. He'd prepared his strike relatively quickly, but to someone of her degree of skill, it was altogether a moment too slow. With a rare, generous smile to reassure him, she helped him back to his feet. She could tell these strikes were different. She could feel every inch of him through their steel.

_Slash. Stab. Swipe. Parry. Swipe. Jab. Overhead. Parry. Swipe. Backhand. Slash. Forearm bash._ She let the strike collide against her chest. He'd expected her to block of course, but she'd allowed it to strike her, expecting Jaune to forfeit his next move.

The blonde surprised her. _He'd _been expecting her to take the strike, and with a loud yell he pierced the night air with his weapon.

She looked down, the tip of his blade pushing just past the defenses her Aura afforded and pressing dangerously against her clavicle. Glancing back up, Pyrrha could tell he looked concerned. She smiled, all too proud for her protégé. "Again!"


	4. Demolition

Another week passed and the duo had moved on from their original choreography to something more advanced. Jaune was quickly improving now that he'd finally understood the nature of their training. He was getting faster. Stronger. More experienced with each passing practice.

She sat on his back, legs crossed, sipping casually from a juice box as he did his push-ups. He could make it to twenty on most days. She made certain she'd had a big lunch and pushed him to twenty-five before he finally collapsed. He performed his squats as she clung to his back, arms loosely wrapped around his neck, legs tucked around his waist. Occasionally a hand would drift down, groping his chest. "I'm steadying myself," she'd say. The warmth growing between her thighs which would have betrayed her words to a more experienced individual was simply ignored by the blond. His sit-ups were performed suspended, calves over Pyrrha's shoulders as she stood. She made sure to keep eye contact.

He'd caught her eye before, but now, shoulders broad, muscles ripping from strain, blond hair clinging to his forehead in loose, wet curls… She'd crafted the beginnings of an Adonis from fine clay. And she'd be damned if she wouldn't have him.

But always after _Weiss_. Bountiful attention entirely aimed at the wrong person. She pitied him as Weiss's apparent crush on Neptune reared itself. She wouldn't have wished what she was experiencing on her worst enemy, and now here they both were. Trapped in a cycle he couldn't comprehend and she hadn't the nerve to break. _Yet._

"We can go catch a movie!"

"_If he could catch anything but a cold he'd catch the disinterest she reserves for him._"

He didn't _mean _to aggravate Weiss so much. However the confidence he was trying to portray was misread all too easily as desperation.

Finally, she understood.

"_Tonight. Tonight would be my night._"

* * *

She waited for him as the sun set over the towers of Beacon. His footsteps crunched heavily on the gravel. "Hi, Pyrrha. Where've you been all day? I haven't seen you since classes ended…"

"I did my homework up here. It's a bit more relaxing." It wasn't entirely a lie.

"Oh. Well are you ready for our training?"

"Yes. However we'll be doing something different today. Stretch quickly." She waited as he stripped. Tie. Blazer. Button-up. T-shirt. He reached for his toes. He stretched an arm over his chest, then the other. She chewed her lips hungrily as she stripped down to the miniskirt and bindings.

Finally he unsheathed Corcea Mors, gripping the heirloom tightly. She thought for a moment before grabbing her vambrace, slipping it back over her left forearm. She most likely wouldn't need it, but he had surprised her at least twice yesterday. She left her weapons on the ground.

"Attack me," she commanded, taking a stance. "No stopping until we're done."

"Okay…" He was obviously uncomfortable with her increasingly vulnerability, but knew better than to question her. Pyrrha's reflexes were sharp, she slapped the blade out of the air and maneuvered it as it neared her. Even unarmed, she was more than a match for him, but he _was _improving.

"So how's Weiss," she asked with an air all too juxtaposed for their current activity.

"Huh?" He looked confused, almost stopping his latest swing. She glared at him until he continued.

"What do you mean, Pyrrha?"

"How is she? Are you still fond of her?"

"Um… yeah. I like her… I'm gonna try and ask her to the Beacon Dance…"

"Oh? She's shown interest in you?" She knew the answer, of course, but she'd ask anyway.

"Well… no. But I think that if I ask her-"

"She'll say no." She nudged the next strike away with a little more effort than was absolutely needed, spinning him off balance.

"Maybe if I-"

"She's going with Neptune." The readied strike never came and she watch his face fall.

"Oh…"

"Don't stop!"

"Right… sorry." His strikes were a lot more sloppy now. The intent was gone. She'd stripped him of his motivation. Next would go his anger.

"I don't blame her. He's a pretty attractive guy. I would ask him myself, but I don't really know him…"

He was so distracted, she could've landed three powerful jabs in between each of his own careless strikes. She waited, needing to break him down further. This was vital, and needed to be treated reverently, however she couldn't help but let a bit of the sting she'd bottled up for the past few months escape past her lips.

"Tall. Handsome. Nice, tan skin. Bright, blue eyes-"

"I have blue eyes!" She dodged his next swipe and punched his shoulder, his Aura barely dulling the blow.

"Funny. Charming. So confident!"

"I-I'm confident!" Another punch, this time aimed at his gut, and she could see in his eyes, the war he was waging between anger and sadness.

"He's the perfect guy, honestly. I should've asked him… hmm, maybe I still can? I doubt either of them would mind." He bellowed- a deep, primal sound from some part of him she'd finally managed to reach. He swung Crocea Mors with every intent to land a strike on her, and each strike missed her by almost a full foot.

The tears were streaming down his face now, but he kept attacking, his rage hardly masking his pain. She was two steps ahead of him every strike for nearly two minutes. She let him expend the childish emotion until he slipped and fell to his knees.

Jaune looked up at his teacher, defeated and broken like no physical wound could cause. "I tried…"

She bent down, taking a knee as she placed a finger beneath his chin, lifting his face to meet her eyes. She watched his chest rise and fall, sore muscles rippling. "You failed, Jaune. It happens. As our leader, you have to be able to move on."

"But… if I c- can't even convince Weiss… what good am I?" He sighed, wiping the tears away, replacing them with a look of solemn defeat. Now was the time to rebuild him. She'd knocked down the old bricks and misplaced concrete and dug up the rotten foundation. Now it was time to build him anew.

"You're as good as you believe yourself to be." She needed him to understand that. To know that it was _he_ who determined his own worth. Not some rich heiress or even herself. Jaune and Jaune alone.

"You sound like my mom…"

"Maybe she was right?"

"But… Weiss…"

"There're other women in this world besides Weiss Schnee." She nearly spat her scorn.

"Like who?"


	5. Reconstruction

**Thanks so much for all of these great reviews, guys. This was the fastest I've racked up so many. So, guys, this is the last chapter. Post as many reviews as you can, I greatly enjoy them. And to that reviewer who wanted to know why this has an M rating? This is why XD**

Pyrrha lifted him to his feet by his belt buckle. She was so _very_ tired of these guessing games. She was so tired of his naïveté and his obsession with the heiress who'd so blatantly denied him at every opportunity. After months of daily practice, she'd show him just how much more she cared for him than _Weiss _ever could.

The red-head shoved the sore blond roughly against the nearest wall, the weathered bricks scraping at his chiseled back. With a flick of her wrist, his belt flew away from his waist. His eyes were wide with shock and confusion. Even _now _of all times he was still the same directionless clay in need of a goal.

"_I'll give him one,_" she thought smugly. Pyrrha pulled his pants down, smirking as he tried in vain to cling to them. His underwear tore off his body like old rags. Jaune tried to cover himself up, but she slapped his hands away, taking hold of his length.

With an unwavering gaze into his deep blue eyes, she slowly ran her hand up and down his growing arousal. Within moments he grew in her hand, reaching a considerable length. She was impressed, to say the least, but she wouldn't let him see that. At least, not until she got what she wanted. His face was red, hands braced against the brick wall as he tried to steady himself.

Pyrrha was just as inexperienced as her partner- such extensive training at a young age forced her to limit her interactions with friends, attractive ones in particular. However that didn't deter her from letting instinct take its course. She'd thought about this moment for so long, fantasizing about every possibility. She was ready for this.

She let go for a moment, spitting in her open palm before she continued. He shuddered even more now, hips pressed against the wall as if he were trying to refrain from bucking deeper into her hand.

"Jaune. _Relax._ This won't be nearly as enjoyable if you're holding your breath the whole time."

"S-sorry… I've never-"

"Shh… neither have I. Doesn't mean I won't be good." She stroked him at a steady pace, biting her lip as she watched his chest rise and fall, his hips buck ever so softly towards her, into the warmth of her hand. She was curious how big he actually was, it seemed to take forever to get from the tip to the base and back again and her fingers barely touched as they wrapped around him. She imagined his broad hands pushing her down, wordlessly demanding her to please him with her mouth. One hand at her throat as he marked her neck with his teeth, his hips bucking against her as she squeezed him between her thighs, toes curled tight as she tried desperately to follow his commands and hold herself off from her release.

She'd mold him into that man if it killed her, but he was a student who learned by watching. By _doing. _It'd take time.

With a final stroke, she released him, teasing her fingertips over the head of his member. He was breathing heavily, face red with desire. "P-Pyrrha…?"

"Be a gentleman, Jaune. Ladies first."

"R-Really?" His eyes lit up and she had to stop herself from smiling. She leaned against the wall as Jaune kissed her. Sloppy and inexperienced, it was still amazingly sweet. She ran her fingers through his shaggy hair, tugging him whenever his kiss got too out of hand, petting him the more he got it right. He learned quickly, nibbling at her bottom lip, nearly making her melt in his strong arms. She held her posture though, not yet ready to give up the reins.

Slowly, Pyrrha pushed the blond down by his shoulders. She shivered as he kissed a trail down her chest and stomach. Taking hold of him by his dandelion mop, she directed him towards the crook of her thighs. He slowly lifted her skirt up before looking up into her emerald eyes. She pulled him in, lips against labia and watched him take his first few tentative, exploratory licks. Shivering, she clutched at his hair, pushing and pulling his head, directing him to the most sensitive of spots.

The pleasure was incredible as his long, smooth, warm tongue tentatively slid it's way between her folds. They were already warm and ready for him and any form of pleasure, but Jaune offered a terrific blend of care and enthusiasm. It was obvious he was trying his best to please her, and the delicious sensations sent shivers of pleasure down her spine. She was buzzing with excitement and her legs shuddered, suddenly straining to keep her on her toes. Pyrrha sighed softly, gripping Jaune's hair even tighter as he explored her body. His hands gripped her thick thighs, fingertips gripping just as tightly to them. The sensations felt amazing, but they weren't enough to give her the release she craved from him.

"It's called a clitoris and it's right _here-_ holy Dust…" She gasped, hips shuddering as she held him close, not allowing him a moment to pull away. "Deeper. Deeper. To the left. Your left. A little m- _ooooh_." She whined as he finally found her g-spot with his fingers, licking at the small bundle of nerves gently with the flat of his tongue. "Don't stop licking! _Jaune-_ oh Dust Jaune don't stop!"

Pyrrha kept him down there long enough she could've sworn he'd grown gills. He suckled at her warmth, dousing the heat that'd grown so irritating over the last few months with his tongue. She moaned into the night sky, riding his face. He swirled his fingers, licked at her bundle of nerves with the tip of his tongue, slowly driving her mad as she bucked against him.

"Oh, dust Jaune… Jaune~" She moaned his name one last time, ecstasy running down his mouth and chin as she finished. Even after she released his straw hair, the poor boy kept _going_ still not yet having understood what he'd done. She didn't mind. She'd let him bring her over that peak.

_Again_.


End file.
